


Like trying to hide the daylight from the sun

by lettertoelise



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, POV Jemma Simmons, POV Leo Fitz, Post 3x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5166404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettertoelise/pseuds/lettertoelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post 3x06 fix-it of sorts.  </p>
<p>Jemma remembers what she was fighting for in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I tried really hard not to write this, because there have been so many incredible fix-it fics posted recently that pretty much fill my soul until it overflows, but my brain wouldn't let me get on with regular writing until this was finished, so . . . hope you like it. 
> 
> There will be at least another chapter. Am going to try to get that up in the next few days. 
> 
> Also - named for a line in a Modest Mouse song that makes me think of Fitz.

The lab was empty, the whir of equipment his only companion. But it was just as well Fitz had never much liked working with anyone other than Simmons anyway.

  
A restlessness had been building in him, the kind only quieted with tools under his fingers. Tinkering had always been the way in which he could simultaneously focus his energy and distract his mind.

 

Of course - his thoughts always wandered to the same place.

  
This new post-alien-planet Jemma was as much a riddle as the unfinished portal in pieces before him. She flashed from timid, to all deflecting bravado, and then was suddenly all desperate eagerness, at once reaching out for his hand to push it away. And then she would smile at him, familiar and warm, feeding the hope that despite everything still flowered with every small encouragement.

  
Fitz was afraid to tell her what he’d read about Will - the lingering questions, the feeling that something didn’t add up. She needed his support now more than anything, not his doubts. So he took his frustration out on the equipment in his hands, building things up only to tear them back down. He was tired, his work sloppy, but he didn’t much care.

  
The simulation wasn’t finished yet, but his anxious fingers tried the power anyway. The portal flickered-and the force of the explosion pushed everything into black.

***

Jemma sat cross-legged on her bed, still pouring over the data from the day, when the earth quaked beneath her. Perhaps Daisy had lost her temper again? It was the subsequent yelling that pulled Jemma from her task and into the hall. An explosion? Where?

  
Suddenly there was Bobbie taking her hand. “The lab,” she said, “It’s Fitz.” It took Jemma a moment to register the words, the clamour in the hall, the lights, the noise, almost overpowering her. It wasn’t until she saw them pull him into the med bay that she fully grasped what had happened. She found herself pressed against the glass, paralyzed, watching them return breath to his lungs. His face was white, streaked with blood which seemed to originate from a gash on the side of his head. Then her view was obscured by a flurry of doctors, responding to the sound of the heart monitor flatlining. Jemma heard herself scream, felt Bobbie’s arms around her waist, holding her back before she could throw herself at the glass.

  
She couldn’t see straight until he’d been stabilized, everything around her seemed to have faded - even Bobbie, whose arms were still bracing Jemma, holding her upright. Jemma couldn’t take her eyes from him, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. The despair at never seeing him again had brought her to her knees on that alien planet - his death would break her.

  
It was an eternity before she was allowed into his room. Bobbie’s expression was enough to inform everyone else their visits with Fitz would have to wait. He had been put in an induced coma for now, allowing his body to recover slowly, but the sight of him laying so still on the hospital bed, Jemma couldn’t help but feel the memories ripple through her. She had been so focused on her obligation to Will, on the downfalls wrought by her own weakness . . . she’d forgotten what she had been fighting for in the first place.

  
Slowly she lowered herself down to perch in the chair beside him. Some color had finally returned to his cheeks and Jemma remembered the last time she’d been at his bedside like this, pretending he was only just sleeping, resting her head on his chest and twining his fingers in hers.  
His breathing was shallow, but the thump of his heart under her ear was like music, drawing her in, steady and strong. She’d had to pinch herself in the lab these days to keep herself from staring at him, puzzled by how he could look the same and yet so different. More than anything he’d just looked older, having shook off the slender cloak of youth, his shoulders broad with maturity. The hard set of his jaw and even the stubble that had found it’s permanent place there had somehow grown to suit him.

  
She buried her face in his chest, savoring the smell of him, pulling him close. Her voice escaped her, a raspy and ironic whisper, “You need to stop doing this to me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to slow down my original idea and add an extra chapter, which maybe I'll post before the next episode airs. We'll see how much I can get away with putting off the actual work I have to do . . .
> 
> HUGE shout out to my girl, EzWriter, who has been my sounding board and cheerleader since I decided to try my hand at this writing business. She is amazing. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone for reading and comments! It truly means so much!

Coulson turned to face her when she entered his office, mouth drawn tightly in a line, hands clasped behind his back like he was about to deliver bad news. Jemma found her way to a chair as Coulson paced slowly back to his desk, not yet offering any relief from the silence that hung between them.  
“Jemma, I think you know how important Fitz is to this team,” he started. It hadn’t been the opening line she was expecting. “Indispensable is a word that comes to mind.”

  
He paused, as if to reevaluate and sat himself across from her. “Look, I can’t imagine what it was like for you all those months, stuck on that alien planet and I’m not going to stop you from looking for answers. But it can’t be at the expense of Fitz. He’s too important. To all of us.”

  
Jemma’s mouth opened, but her voice caught in her throat. What was happening? Coulson leaned forward, arms folded, concern etched deeper in his features since he had become director. Jemma’s voice came out defensive. “You know I would never intentionally put Fitz in danger.”

  
Coulson’s face warmed slightly, his demeanor softening, “I know Jemma. But that doesn’t stop him from putting himself in danger.”

  
She fought to keep her voice even, clinical, only the light catching the corner of her eye betrayed her efforts to hold back tears. “So what are you trying to say?”

  
Coulson glanced away quickly before fully committing, “Jemma, we’re transferring Fitz to another location.”

  
Her stomach heaved. “For how long?” she whispered.

  
“I don’t know,” he responded quietly, not quite looking her in the eye. The room had started to spin, and with it, Coulson’s words, circling but not landing. “We’re still waiting to see the full extent of his injuries.”

  
“He won’t go.” she snapped suddenly, desperation clinging to the edge of her voice.

  
“He has to, Jemma!” Coulson shot back, surprising her. “He’s going to get himself killed.”

  
Jemma met Coulson’s eyes at this, felt the gravity in them. She knew he didn’t want this, defeat hung in the corners of his mouth, in his slouched shoulders. There was no other way.

***  
Fitz’s head felt like it was made of lead. When his thick eyelids finally lifted he quickly realized the futility of his efforts - vision was blurry anyway. The siren song of exhaustion was pulling him in and out of sleep, dragging snippets of conversation into his dreams.

  
“There you go, mate,” it was Hunter. “Look, Bob, I think he’s waking up.”

 

“It’s hard to tell. Either way, if he’s stirring, that’s a good sign.”

  
Slowly he could feel himself coming back, gaining awareness of his body laid out on the bed, the piercing ache in his head being the most prominent sign he had returned to consciousness. Unbidden, his hand was suddenly pinching the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the pain resonating through the front of his brow, startling the slight figure balled up asleep in the chair beside him.

  
“Oh dear, you probably need more pain medication.” Fitz had known it was her even before he heard the beautiful lilt of her voice. He’d sensed her as she unfurled from the chair and leaned over him, could recognize the way her hands softly swept his arm, the press of her fingers, firm and careful as she directed the medicine into his IV.

  
“Jemma.” His voice was not his own, ragged and coarse from lack of use.

  
She shushed him maternally and he felt his lips pull at a smile. She knew he hated it when she did that.

  
His vision had improved enough that he could make out her face as she looked down at him, eclipsing the harsh fluorescent light behind her. She’d stopped wearing make-up since he’d pulled her back from the blue planet and while he knew there were a myriad of reasons why, he couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of her bare nose, brushed with freckles. It reminded him of days spent together at the Academy, still in pajamas, sitting across from one another in a the center of a whirlwind of books, notes, and journals.

  
Jemma came over to sit by his side again, pulling the chair close enough that she could lean forward and rest her elbows on the bed. Then she slipped her hand in his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  
“Jemma, I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. “I’ve mucked it up, haven’t I? Have we lost everything?”

  
She didn’t answer, just stared at him, eyes searching as though she didn’t quite understand his meaning. Perhaps his words had been lost in the rawness of his voice. “The progress on the portal? Is it all gone?” he tried again. “I know I’ve disappointed you.”

  
A light seemed to switch on across Jemma’s face and she smiled, lifting a hand to wipe away the fugitive tears before her expression grew serious. “Fitz, I don’t think you’ve ever disappointed me in my whole life.”

***

Fitz had never locked his door as long as Jemma had known him. At the Academy she had scolded - “Are you just waiting for someone to come murder you in the night?” As roommates during their time at Sci-Ops, he was constantly being locked out, having forgotten his keys after Jemma had been the last to leave. So she knew, after Bobbie had finally shooed her off to bed, she would find the door to his bunk open.

It had been so long since she’d been in his room. Plans for the portal, drawn up in Fitz’s neat hand-always all capital letters-were pinned up on the walls, scattered on every surface, intermingled with notes from various projects. Stopping at his dresser she fingered the corner of the photo he’d tacked there - the two of them on their first S.H.I.E.L.D. mission in Peru, smiling faces stuffed down in the corner, the temple rising up behind them. She swooped down to grab one his jumpers off the floor and pulled it tight to her chest as she gently climbed into the bed. Finally the sobs hit her, shaking her entire frame as she curled up in the sheets that still smelled of him and soaked them with her tears.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the lovely comments and encouragement over the past few days. I'm so amazed that you are still reading and like it, so thanks! I hope the ending is everything you've been hoping for - it was a little rushed because I wanted to get it out before the next episode airs and all my theories about Jemma are crushed!
> 
> Also - thanks again to ezwriter for helping me wrangle in my commas and keep me on track.

Jemma was cleaning up the lab when Bobbie found her, guilty, stacking new glassware in the storage closet. Bobbie paused for a moment before striding over and crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Why are you avoiding Fitz?” she asked pointedly.

  
Jemma focused on her task, not looking up when she answered, “I’m not avoiding him.” and then quieter, “Besides, he’s angry with me.”  
Bobbie sighed, dropping her offensive position and walked over to put a reassuring hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “I’ll finish putting this stuff away, you go talk to him.”

  
Jemma got no further than “ _But I have a system_ -” when Bobbie took the equipment out of the younger woman’s hands and shoved her out the door.

  
It was true, she wasn’t avoiding him, but their argument earlier had left his voice ringing in her ears, desperate blue eyes haunting her every time she blinked. He’d left Coulson’s office in a tear, finding her bent over the sink in the kitchen, cleaning up after tea.

  
“ _You knew the whole time! And you didn’t even tell me!_ ” he had shouted. He was searching her face in confusion, the betrayal evident in his furrowed brow, in his restless hands. _“Jemma, how could you?_ ”

  
She struggled to answer him then, frozen by his anger and her own guilt. Choking, she sputtered, “It’s the only way to keep you safe, Leo. Coulson thinks I’m too dangerous.”

  
He threw his hands up in the air and then tugged them down through his hair, pulling at his chin until they rested on his hips. His mouth was open, soundless, his silence hitting her harder than any words ever could.

  
The hall was empty as Jemma made her way down to Fitz’s room. It was late, even the Playground was quiet sometimes. It had been hard for her to admit how much she had missed it. On the blue planet she had survived on hope and memory, infusing them into the very air she breathed, into the food forced into her body. Every moment was tied to a story, a way to keep her grounded, tethered to the people she loved. And then the memories had turned bitter, a sour reminder of what she had lost. There had been Will, pulling her into the present, keeping her from collapsing into her grief, and she’d made herself numb, forcing the past away so it couldn’t hurt her any more. Being back had only been one painful reminder after another that memories were fickle, making her question what was reality and what she had invented. Only Will had been real and she needed him to keep her tied to the present, so she could live.

  
But around the edges there was Fitz. There had always been Fitz, his habits so familiar to Jemma she hadn’t realized she couldn’t forget them, they were part of her. Stumbling across his empty tea mug, left mindlessly in the sink for someone else to clean, she found herself rolling her eyes in the same manner she had been since Academy, a smirk forming on her lips as she sighed and washed it for him. Traces of him everywhere, his jumper abandoned on the couch in the common room, his ever present trail of gadgets. The constant comfort of his presence had snuck into the back of her consciousness and the memories had started slowly to resurface.

 

The door to Fitz’s room was open and she paused just outside before he glanced up and saw her there. He was sitting on his bed, in the process of transferring his clothing into the duffel bag on the floor in front of him. He didn’t hold her gaze for long, instead turning back to his work and as his eyes left hers, Jemma felt herself finally crumble, the waves of her memory crashing into her. They’d been here before.  
_There’s nothing to discuss._ -her mind was taunting her.

  
“Fitz, please stop,” she whispered, leaning into the doorframe. She looked up at the ceiling, hoping gravity might keep the tears from spilling from her eyes, but the sobbing gasp shook through her anyway. Almost instantly Fitz was on his feet, pulling her into him, wrapping her tightly in his arms. Unlike the chaste hugs he had given her when she’d first returned, cradling her as though she might break, he clung to her now, desperate to hold on.  
When she looked into his tear streaked face she found herself suddenly calm. She leaned into his arms, lifting her hands to drag fingers across the coarseness of his cheeks. Slowly she brought her lips to his forehead, then each cheek, arms winding behind his head. Pressing their foreheads together, they stood, immune from the passing of time.

  
Like most of their combined efforts, it was impossible to know who was responsible for first leaning into the kiss, lips shyly brushing against one another, timidly exploring. It was slow and soft, deliberate and savored. He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head as the kiss deepened and she leaned into the comforting firmness of his chest. Warmth worked it’s way through Jemma’s entire body, she was lost to the rhythm of this new exchange, there were no memories, no past, no future, just this.

***  
Fitz sat waiting for Coulson in his office, head pressed into his open palm, leg jumping. His eyes were darting from the door to Jemma sitting in the chair beside him. She was quiet, composed as usual, reaching out to rest a hand on his but he was not comforted. When Coulson entered the room, it was all Fitz could do to not pounce. Coulson’s decision to transfer him had felt like a betrayal. The man knew how hard he’d worked to get Jemma back, how could he expect Fitz to just pack up and move on?

  
“I’m not going,” he started before Coulson even had a chance to sit down.  
“Agent Fitz, we already discussed this-”

  
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not going, it’s not even a question. I’ll leave S.H.I.E.L.D. before I just sit back and let you reassign me, full well knowing how I feel about.” Fitz’s tone was combative now.

  
“Fitz, you blew up the lab.”

  
This quieted him for a moment, hand instinctively wrapping around to scratch the back of his neck. “Yeah, Jemma’s already scolded me for that.”  
“Director Coulson,” the steady, confident soprano of Jemma’s voice surprised them both, “Agent Fitz and I have discussed the matter extensively and we’ve come to the conclusion that he’s best off staying at the Playground where I can look after him.”

  
Coulson raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Jemma continued, “And I assure you, taking full responsibility for his actions, I will see to it that this reckless behavior does not continue. I recognize the role I played in the lab explosion, had there been more oversight on my part, it would have been prevented.”  
Fitz scoffed, mock offended, but Jemma’s expression was constant and Coulson was fighting a smile.

  
“You’re going to keep me out of trouble? Then you’re going to have to start pulling your weight around the lab-I can’t keep covering for you all the time-”  
“Covering for me all the time?!” Jemma’s professionalism broke, she turned to Fitz, the pitch of her voice raising.

  
They were interrupted by the sound of Coulson laughing and he stood to slap them both affectionately on the back.  
“Welcome back, Fitzsimmons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm toying with the idea of writing an alternate ending to this. I had promised a happy ending in the tags, but I have an angsty ending in mind as well if people are interested it to read it ;) Just let me know!


End file.
